


Fucked

by Zolac_no_Miko



Category: Metanoia (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-24
Updated: 2008-04-24
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:54:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zolac_no_Miko/pseuds/Zolac_no_Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn't going well. For starters, he wasn't drunk enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucked

**Author's Note:**

> For ms_duck on Livejournal, who requested "Star and a lonely night out".
> 
> Originally [posted on Livejournal](http://riverside-hq.livejournal.com/237037.html) on 04/24/2008.

This wasn’t going well.

For starters, he wasn’t drunk enough.

All of Zander’s God damned off-again, on-again, bleeding heart bullshit was driving Star up the fucking walls, he couldn’t stand it anymore in that fucking apartment, Zan there with his mopey cow-eyes looking like some kind of kicked puppy, _fuck_ that, what Star needed was a few good stiff drinks and at least one good fuck, and he needed them NOW.

The truth was, Zan had somehow very quickly gotten under his skin, and that kiss the other night had been like oxygen after drowning, and when Zan had pushed Star away it had _stung_ , really hurt.... And Star was ashamed, and he covered it with anger. And he _was_ angry, because Zander had slapped him in the face, and then he wanted to _talk_ about it?! FUCK NO. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want Zan to touch him, he didn’t even want to see his face because it felt like a punch in the gut and that made him mad. Star needed some distraction from the sick feeling he had. He needed something to throw in Zan’s face so he could look away from the hurt. He just needed to get _away_....

So there he was, seated at the bar in a seedy dive in a bad part of town, and the drinks were crap and the other patrons did _not_ look promising. Star downed the rest of his drink and ordered another one, glowering as he scanned the room again. Ecchh. Maybe he should try another place.

A girl came in, young, blonde, and pretty. Star watched her speculatively as she crossed the room, standing at the other end of the bar and ordering. While she waited she turned her back to the bar and searched the room as Star had, appraising and rejecting each of the lonely losers, as Star had, her lips pursed in a thoughtful pout.

Glancing down the length of the bar, the girl noticed Star. Smiling, she turned, leaning against the bar and making eyes at him. Star raised his glass by way of greeting, internally rolling his eyes at how obvious she was. Still....

The girl’s order came, some kind of fruity something. Snatching it up, she sashayed down the bar, favoring Star with another dazzling smile and perching on the stool next to his.

Star kept up with her bright chatter and small-talk with only half a mind, considering her coolly from behind half-lowered lids. She was pretty, yes. And obviously willing. She even looked like she might know an interesting trick or two. And yet... she seemed too _nice_. Naïve, like she _thought_ she knew what she wanted in this bar, but didn’t really. She wasn’t... mean. That was it. Not mean enough. Star felt mean and that’s what he wanted, _mean_. He wanted bruises, he wanted bites, he wanted blood. He wanted nails scratching down his back. He wanted to get knocked around a bit. And he wanted to give as good as he got.

He wasn’t going to get that from little blonde-and-fruity. Suppressing a dissatisfied sigh, he let his eyes wander as she chattered at him. A youngish man walked by, and Star followed him with his eyes, very pointedly observing his ass. The girl faltered in her speech and very shortly excused herself with a cheerful smile, attempting to cover up her disappointment. Hastily she latched onto another young man at the bar.

Star wanted to be amused, but mostly felt annoyed. After a cursory glance, he determined that no new prospects had shown up and he turned back to his drink. Scowling at his reflection in the liquid, he shifted restlessly on the barstool, fighting down the feeling of dissatisfaction that had inundated every cell, smothering him with oily acridness and leaving behind a dull, hollow ache.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Fuck it.” This craphole was a bust, he’d better try elsewhere. Downing half his drink, he fished for his wallet. The door opened, and Star’s eyes turned automatically to the man that walked in.

He looked to be about Star’s age, a little taller, thick, shoulder-length black hair pulled back into a ponytail, pale, slender arms ending in the slender wrists of hands shoved into his pockets, green eyes hautily judging the value of every person they rested on as he stalked to a corner booth and sat. Star turned on his stool and watched him closely. The man’s eyes were hard and cold; aloof, he surveyed the other patrons, taking notice of every detail before moving on. He did not look like someone prone to smiling very often.

Star picked up his drink and sipped at it speculatively. This man was not here to drink. He was here because he was hungry, and because he wanted to hurt somebody. Star fished an ice cube out of his drink and sucked on it, narrowing his eyes slightly.

The man looked over at Star from across the room, and their eyes locked. After a long moment, he leisurely inspected every inch of the redhead, and Star did likewise. The man returned his gaze to Star’s eyes, leaning lazily back in his booth, lids dropping slightly.

Smirking just slightly, Star unhurriedly turned back to the bar, finishing off his drink in a few slow gulps and fishing for his wallet again. Tossing a few bills next to his empty glass, he nodded to the bartender and stood. Turning his back on the green-eyed man, Star strolled unhastily toward the men’s room.

It was a one-seater, and Star did not lock the door behind him. Going over to the sink, he washed his hands and wiped them slowly over his face, shaking his head. Behind him, the door opened.

Star watched in the mirror as the green-eyed man closed and locked the door behind him. Without preamble he stepped up behind Star, pulling the smaller man against him, one hand on his hipbone, the other snaking up under his shirt, splayed flat against his stomach. The man nipped sharply at his neck and Star groaned, tilting his chin upwards. _Yes_....

Encouraged, the man sucked on Star’s neck, snapped at the corner of his jaw, bit his earlobe, licked up the shell of his ear. He slid his hand from Star’s stomach to his chest, lifting his shirt and rolling a nipple between finger and thumb, slipping his other hand from Star’s hip to his stomach. As enjoyable as all of this was, the man was leaning his full weight against Star, effectively pinning him... which, granted, was what Star wanted, but the sink was digging uncomfortably into his pelvis, and with his back turned to the other man he couldn’t _do_ anything.

Before he could complain, the other man roughly hauled Star around to face him, throwing him against the bathroom wall, incidentally bashing the back of his head against the corner of the paper towel dispenser. “Fuck!” growled Star, scowling angrily, but the man ignored him, pressing up against him. By way of retaliation, Star pressed his knee up between his legs, “accidentally” a little too forcefully. The green-eyed man swore, grabbing Star’s arm in a vice grip, tight enough to leave marks, shaking the redhead and slamming him against the wall.

Grinning wolfishly, Star hooked a hand around the back of the taller man’s neck, hauling him in for a kiss. Growling appreciatively in the back of his throat, the man pressed in closer, kissing Star with bruising force and loosening his hold on Star’s arm in favor of dragging his nails downward, leaving red marks on pale skin. Curling fingers in thick black hair, Star yanked the other man’s head back, snapping at his neck and collarbone.

Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, the man submitted quietly to Star’s teeth and lips for a few seconds, letting his fingers linger at Star’s hipbones. Then, abruptly, he tore at Star’s shirt, stepping back so could lift it up and over Star’s chest. Obligingly, Star lifted his arms, and the shirt was peeled off and cast aside. Immediately the man was pushing up against Star again, licking at a bruise on Star’s shoulder, an ugly yellow-green reminder of his stunt at the warehouse a few days ago. Working his way down Star’s body, he licked and bit at a nipple, dipped his tongue into his navel. Leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes, Star tangled his fingers in black hair once again, pulling.

“God, you taste good,” rasped the man in a deep voice, huskily. Nuh-uh. No. Star grabbed the man’s shirt, hauling him upward and shoving his tongue in his mouth. No conversation. No bullshit. The other man made no complaint, kissing back ravenously, using teeth as much as lips or tongue and fumbling with Star’s belt buckle. Better. Much better. Star slid hands up under the man’s shirt and clawed them down his back, feeling skin peeling away under his nails and enjoying the other man’s hiss of pain against his mouth.

Star closes his eyes again, concentrating on the feel, the taste, the smell of things... the other man’s teeth working his bottom lip, the smell of sweat and the flavor of desire... and for a brief moment the man was someone else. Taller, broader of shoulder, hair silkier under Star’s fingers; complexion rich and dark, not pale; dark amber eyes, not green, filled with lust; the smell of his skin so familiar.... And then the moment had passed and it was just some guy, in a dingy bathroom of a crappy bar. Star felt repulsed. Suddenly, it was all so... _cheap_.

Bracing his hands against the green-eyed man’s shoulders, Star shoved him away. When Star didn’t immediately follow this action by shoving his hand down his pants, or somesuch, the other man looked confused. “What-?”

“Fuck this. I’m done.” Star turned to go.

“What the fuck?! You can’t-!” The man grabbed his arm, yanking Star back, snarling when the redhead tried to shake him off. The two men struggled against each other briefly, pushing and pulling, before Star hauled off and punched the other man in the jaw. The taller man reeled back against the sink, leaning against it and wiping at the blood trickling from his split lip, eyes enflamed with rage. “You little _whore_ ,” he spat.

Star snatched up his shirt and flipped the man off, hauling the door open and storming out of the bathroom. Pulling on his shirt and redoing his belt, he threw himself down at the bar, glaring at the countertop. After a couple of minutes the other man stalked angrily past him, heading for the door; Star pointedly ignored him.

...Shit. What the fuck was that? He should be in the fucking bathroom right now, getting bruised and bloodied and _fucked_ , what was he doing at the bar?

The image of Zander swam up into his thoughts again, unbidden. Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. This was _not good_. Yes, okay, he wanted to fuck Zan, he _really_ wanted to fuck Zan, but since when had that stopped him from fucking whoever the hell _else_ he felt like? It’s not as if he actually _could_ fuck Zan, fucking stupid angel-ridden....

Swearing, Star ordered another drink, the strongest one he could think of. Downing it, he slammed the glass down and signaled the barkeep for another. Dragging the refilled glass over to himself, he didn’t drink immediately, but peered blearily into it, as if it might tell him something interesting. He couldn’t fuck Zan. And he couldn’t fuck anyone else. And he couldn’t fuck Zan. Star stared dismally into his drink, a cold, empty feeling pouring into his stomach and settling there. He didn’t want to stay at this bar any longer. He fucking hated this shitty bar. But he didn’t want to go back to the apartment either. Couldn’t go back.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.


End file.
